


never been to peru

by stxmph



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Hence the title, It ends nicely I promise, M/M, Unrequited Love, Yuuri has hanahaki and cant stop coughing up flowers, the flowers are peruvian lilies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stxmph/pseuds/stxmph
Summary: Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when their love is unrequited. 
    Yuuri yawned, and had the urge to cough. He tried, but the action was small and pathetic from his position so he sat up and tried again. He placed a palm over his mouth as he shook, and pulled back his hand when he felt something. In his hand were three small petals, pale cream and pink at the edges with dark dots littering the bottom. He coughed once more, another petal falling from his mouth and into his open hand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i doNT USUALLY WRITE ANGST/SAD STUFF BUT I WANTED HANAHAKI FOR THESE TWO SO. OOPS
> 
> its not all sad dw there is some niceness

_The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The plant grows in their lungs and spreads through through their body, becoming deadly if not treated. The disease can only go away if the love becomes requited, or if the plant is removed through surgery, but the feelings and memories of the love disappear along with the petals._

 

_\---_

  


Yuuri had loved Victor since the first time he saw him skate. Granted he was young and didn’t know him personally, so it was more a love for the russian mans abilities and graceful gliding over the ice. As he got older, he carried on idolising Victor. He was an inspiration; the best in the business, and Yuuri wanted to be just like him. The thought of skating on the same ice as him someday, the thought of him competing against the man that made him follow through with the sport and become better, thinking about it made him feel giddy.

  


Flunking the Grand Prix Finals and being unrecognisable by Victor was something Yuuri didn’t expect, but now that he looks back on it, he should’ve seen it coming.

  


Yuuri gets nervous, you see. Skating in front of anyone that isn’t Yuuko, Minako, or Celestino was enough to bring his nerves into overdrive. This wasn’t the first time he’d had a panic attack at a competition, but the importance of the day and the pressure was too much for the poor Japanese lad. He fell on every jump and stumbled through his step sequences, and he didn’t even bother looking at his score when he stepped into the kiss and cry. He just hung his head, embarrassed and disappointed with himself.

 

To make matters worse, later on Victor didn’t even recognise him as a competitor. Now _that_ was embarrassing. He gets to the finals, finally on the same level as his idol, and said idol didn’t have the slightest idea who he was. It felt degrading, to say the least, but Yuuri blamed it on the fact that he never socialised with the other skaters so _why would he_ know who he was?

 

Nevertheless, Yuuri still admired him. He’s come so far and he’s inspired him so much, he can’t throw that all away just because he didn’t recognise him.

 

When he got home to Hasetsu, he skated one of Victor’s routines for Yuuko. He was angry at himself by the time he finished; why couldn’t he have skated like this when it really mattered? Why did he have to make mistakes _then_ but be perfect now? It was pathetic. Why did he ever think he would be on the same level as Victor? He’s on a podium of his own; both on and off the ice. He’s on a whole other plane of existence; no one could catch up to him, definitely not an anxiety-ridden, plain, forgettable man such as Yuuri Katsuki.

 

But then Yuuko’s kids uploaded a video of him skating Victor’s routine and it blew up. Within 24 hours everyone interested in skating had seen the video and was talking about it. Yuuri’s phone had froze twice from the amount of notifications he was getting on any social media platform he owned. Coupled with calls from everyone who’s ever had his number, he couldn’t use his phone for two seconds before the notifications took up his whole screen, so he eventually just turned it off and waited for it all to blow over.

 

It didn’t blow over. Yuuri found this out when a dog tackled him to the ground one morning and his father informed him that it belongs to a good looking foreign bloke. The bloke in question turns out to be none other than Victor Nikiforov. Who would’ve guessed it? 5 time world champion figure skater flying to Japan to coach Yuuri, the skater with the world’s biggest glass heart. It seemed insane, unbelievable, he was really here, naked and bathing in the Katsuki family onsen. The whole first day Yuuri expected to be shaken awake any moment. He awoke the next morning feeling disorientated, wondering if it actually was some weird dream, but then the brown poodle bounded into his living room, followed by its owner who greeted him with a voice way too enthusiastic for how early it was.

 

Victor was nicer than Yuuri expected him to be. He didn’t think he’d be rude or anything, but he was just so easy to talk to, and spoke with such ease it was as if they’d known each other for years. He was a critical coach, but made up for it with the praise he showered his student in. It didn’t take Yuuri too long to grow accustomed to having Victor around, and the nervousness that was ever present at the beginning slowly faded as the two got to know each other better.

  


-

  


It’s the middle of June, and Yuuri is sat at his desk one evening, tapping away at his laptop. He took a sip of from the water bottle next to him, feeling a tickle in his throat after he swallowed. He swallowed again, trying to stop the feeling and dislodge whatever was there, but the action just made him gag. He forced himself to cough a couple of times, and something made its way into his mouth. Yuuri plucked the object from his tongue with his fingers, studying it with furrowed brows for a few seconds. A petal? He studied it from all angles. It was soft and small, cream coloured with pale pink tints and dark dots. Confused, he set the petal down on his desk. What was that about? Weird. His attention was redirected however when a noise sounded from his laptop signalling a new message from Phichit. He forgot about the weird instance.

  


The next time it happened, it was early July. He was tired, laying on his back in his bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about nothing in particular. He yawned, and then had the urge to cough. He tried, but the action was small and pathetic from his position so he sat up and tried again. He placed a palm over his mouth as he shook, and pulled back his hand when he felt something. In his palm were three small petals, their aesthetic the same as the one from a few weeks ago. He coughed once more, another petal falling from his mouth and into his open hand.

 

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Why was this happening? His mind wandered to the possibility of him having Hanahaki disease, but he quickly discards that idea. That was when you loved someone who didn’t love you back, right? He didn’t love anyone. Not romantically, anyway. Yeah, he maybe had a little crush on his coach, but they’d only met a couple months ago, there was no way it would be over him. But… was there any other explanation as to why he was suddenly coughing up flowers?

 

He tried his best to forget about it. His chest wasn’t in pain, only a slight twinge or tickle every now and then. It wasn’t enough to interfere with his skating. _(yet - he thought before shaking his head. No it was fine.)_

 

He felt like he jinxed himself, because he began coughing up the pretty petals more and more as time went on. Nothing too extreme, but every day he’d have a new collection of small, creamy pages crawling up his throat. His chest was starting to hurt a little, a pain similar to that of when you’re recovering from a chest infection. His voice became slightly scratchy after coughing fits, and to avoid any questions, he got into a routine of forcing the petals back in his throat, then getting home in the evening and spluttering the whole day's worth up at once. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was necessary. By evening, Yuuri ended up feeling ill from forcing himself to hold back the petals, and the act of coughing so many up at once put a painful strain on his throat.

 

Thinking of the cause of his disease only made it worse. He’d regretfully come to terms with the fact that yes, this was hanahaki disease, and yes, his unrequited love was Victor. There was no other explanation. At first he was skeptical. They’d only met in April; how could a love blossom (no pun intended) in such a short amount of time, strong enough for a flower to already be growing? He was starting to get more and more freaked out about it, so one day he turned to Yuuko.

 

“You two do have amazing chemistry. It’s like you’ve known each other your whole lives, and falling in love can be quick.” She’d said, handing Yuuri a tissue to cough into as she rubbed his back.

 

“You’ve admired him for years, right? Maybe the love took into account all those years of idolisation and...I don’t know, grew as if you’d been in love with him for all that time?”

 

When Yuuri’s coughing fit subsided, Yuuko gently pried his hands from his face to inspect the petals. The pair took to google to try and identify the flower, and after not long, they concluded that the plant growing inside him was an alstroemeria flower, also known as a peruvian lily. Looking at the petals, Yuuri wasn’t surprised, they did look like small lilies. The pale petals curled at the ends, with small dots branching along the surface from the bottom and fizzled out towards the curved edge.

 

It was said that the kind of flower that grew had some relation to the love you harboured. Yuuri asked Yuuko to look up what alstroemerias symbolised.

 

_“Devotion and mutual support, between two family members or friends._

_Friendship on a broad scale from acquaintanceship to lifelong buds._

_Withstanding the trials of everyday life._

_Building your personal life by finding new friends and potential romantic connections._

_Following your dreams and achieving your aspirations, both in a material and spiritual sense.”_

 

It hit too close to home, the words bursting another short coughing fit from his chest and he doubled over, Yuuko’s hand returning to rub at his back as he shook and spluttered.

 

“Peruvian Lilies, huh?” her voice was soft as Yuuri sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and dumping the petals in the bin next to them. He nodded.

 

“You’ve never even _been_ to Peru.” her gentle joking was appreciated, and Yuuri gave a small huff of a laugh and smiled at her. They didn’t talk about it again, and Yuuko promised not to tell anyone else.

 

-

  


Late October rolled around, only a week or two away from the China cup, he was at Minako’s studio going over steps and stretching. Minako was stood at the back of the room, watching Yuuri through the mirror on the opposite wall as he lifted a leg up onto the barre and leant down. Today, he’d been feeling awful. He hadn’t eaten since last night, he knew putting anything in his mouth would throw him into a coughing fit. If he could just make it _one more hour_ until he finished his practice, he could scurry home and empty his aching chest into a bin in the privacy of his bedroom.

 

But despite his best efforts, he could feel the familiar crawling in his throat and he pulled his leg down from the barre, moving to lean his arms on it and look at himself in the mirror. He tried to focus on his reflection, swallow down the nature trying to rip itself from his throat, but to no avail. He shut his eyes and coughed harshly once, his hands flying up to cover his mouth. His whole body felt weak, and he fell to his knees, coughing a mixture of petals and blood into his hand and onto the wooden floor. Tears pricked his eyes at the pain and, he couldn’t stop his hacking, sobbing and spluttering. He felt a hand on his back, rubbing much like how Yuuko had done before. He looked to his side and saw Minako crouched next to him, eyes wide with shock and concern. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly turned his head back down as more petals fell from his mouth, Minako patting his back softly and shushing him as he cried.

 

When he’d spat up all the petals he could, he sat back on his haunches, eyes screwed shut and breathing heavy and ragged. He took a few minutes to calm himself and his body down, before cracking his eyes open and seeing the mess in front of him. This was the first time he’d ever coughed up blood. Usually the petals came out perfectly untainted, save for some saliva. Minako must’ve noticed his shock at the sight and she pulled him into her and held him tight, muttering comforting words into his hair as he cried softly into her shirt.

 

She spoke after a while.

 

“It’s Victor, isn’t it?” she stated more than asked, and Yuuri just nodded, feeling exhausted.

 

It’s Victor. It’s always bloody Victor. It always has been. It was him when Yuuri was 12 and practising on the ice rink with Yuuko, copying his routines. It was him when Yuuri was advancing through the Grand Prix series. _If I can get to the finals, I’ll be skating on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov._ It was him at the finals, stood atop the podium with a wide smile and gold medal, and Yuuri on the ground far away, his name nothing to the ears of the beautiful russian.

 

It was Victor when he showed up in Japan. It was him when Yuuri skated, he stood watching him with a steady gaze, judging his every move. It was him when he competed against Yuri Plisetsky. It was the fear of him going back to Russia with his namesake and Yuuri having no hope of having his feelings reciprocated. He had no hope anyway. The disease was getting worse, and it was only a matter of time until it fucked up everything. It seemed like it was already starting to get there.

 

It was Victor now. It was his petals falling from Yuuri’s mouth every day, pale and soft like the man himself, symbolism fitting him and their relationship to a T. How was he going to hide this any longer? It just wasn’t going to happen.

 

After a long conversation, Yuuri and Minako came to the decision that she would tell his family and Victor about his hanahaki, and ask them not to pester him about it. Yuuri was grateful for his ballet teacher; she always knew the right thing to do. She was always so supportive. He was lucky to have her.

  


-

  


The flowers became unavoidable. He still tried to suppress them, and he absolutely refused to let them free during practice. But when not practising it hurt too much to try and hold in, so he ended up coughing up little petals when around others. Everyone looked so concerned, especially Victor, when they heard him coughing or saw him pluck a petal from his mouth. He hated the attention, but there was nothing he could do.

 

Despite Minako’s words, Victor entered Yuuri’s room one night when he heard him choking from down the hall. He sat with him silently as the fit subsided, dabbing Yuuri’s blood-stained mouth with his sleeve. The action was a mistake, and Yuuri quickly turned to throw up more petals into the bin he had been crouching over.

 

“I-I’m sorry, just give me a minute.” Yuuri’s voice was raspy and quiet.

 

“Don’t apologise. I should be the one apologising.” Victor sounded like he was about to cry, and Yuuri was torn between wanting to comfort him and shouting at him _you have no right to cry right now, you did this to me, I’m the one in pain, you’ve ruined me, why can’t you love me?_ He did neither, and just sat breathing heavily as the flowers subsisded.

 

“.....Is it inappropriate for me to say they’re beautiful?” Victor’s voice was almost a whisper as he looked into the bin Yuuri was holding at the pile of petals. Yuuri sighed out a laugh in his breathless state.

 

“They’re beautiful because they’re for you.”

  


-

  


Yuuri wears a hygiene mask the whole time he’s in China when he’s not on the ice. He talks as little as possible, telling people he’s not feeling well but not saying why. The mask helps, if only a little, because it catches any stray petals that wriggle their way out of his mouth when he’s out without them falling for the world to see.

 

Luckily, he’s in no more pain than he was when he broke down on Minako’s studio floor. He doesn’t feel any better, mind you, but he’s adamant that he’s okay enough to compete. Victor isn’t too sure. Yuuri tells him not to worry, that he’ll probably not make it through anyway. He says that if he _does_ somehow make it through in his state, but it gets worse, he’ll drop out of the competition. Victor agrees, albeit glumly.

 

His short program goes amazingly, landing him first despite himself. He’s shocked, to say the least, though he was feeling surprisingly okay during his program. Obviously, he’d felt better, but luckily he hadn’t felt the familiar urge to barf up flowers whilst he was skating, instead managing until he was off in the changing rooms before he started spewing.

 

And then it’s the free skate. And hes feeling more than a little nervous.

  


There’s not long until it’s time for his performance, and Yuuri is stood in an underground parking lot coughing up blood and petals, and for the first time, _an entire flower_. It was triggered by Victor’s words - as his fits all seem to be, now.

 

_“If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium, I’ll take responsibility by resigning as your coach.”_

 

Deafening silence. It seemed to last hours, then suddenly Yuuri was in tears.

 

_“Why would you say something like that like you’re trying to test me?”_

 

He has more he wants to say but his words are replaced by flowers as he sinks to the ground, letting himself splutter and cough until there’s nothing left. He looks up and Victor is crouched in front of him. He looks like he wants to say something but he knows that it’s no use. They sit in silence for a few minutes while Yuuri calms down.

 

“It’s almost time. We should be getting back.” Victor only nods, standing and reaching his hand out to help Yuuri up. He lets him pull him upstairs and into the changing rooms, and even ties his laces for him. They spend a few minutes cleaning Yuuri up before returning.

 

Yuuri steps out onto the ice. He’s scared, as anyone would be, but he’s feeling...light? His chest aches, but it’s nothing compared to how it usually is. He’s relieved at that.

 

_Maybe, if I keep up feeling like this, I’ll be in a good enough shape to still compete in the final._

 

As he skates, he only feels better. He’s almost forgotten about his pain until the end of the performance. He’s breathing heavily, and his exhaustion reminds him of his scratched up throat. But he did it. He finished his free skate, and he did pretty well, given the circumstance. He fell a couple times, and there were some over rotations, but all that aside, he’s proud of himself.

 

He looks around the rink, searching for Victor. He spots him and the russian starts running. Yuuri is confused for a second, before realising he’s running to the rinks exit to greet him. He skates quickly to the side, grinning at his coach.

 

“Victor! I did great, right?” He’s beaming, and Victor nods with a proud smile on his face.

 

And then he’s being knocked backwards, there’s a hand on the back of his head and an arm around his shoulder and Yuuri’s eyes widen as Victors close. And Victor kisses him.

 

It’s a quick kiss in mid air, just a firm press of lips as they fall back, Victor pulling back before they land on the ice so they don’t clash painfully. Yuuri’s chest swells, but for the first time in months, it isn’t painful.

 

 _“This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me.”_ The words echo through Yuuri’s head for the rest of the day, and his chest doesn’t hurt so bad.

  


That night, Yuuri gets no sleep as he’s crouched over the hotel bathrooms toilet, sobbing as whole flowers stained with blood fall from his throat. Victor is right by his side the whole night, hand on his back and whispering encouragements. The last few petals fall from his mouth, and Yuuri takes in a deep breath. His lungs haven’t felt this clear in months, and he wants to revel in the blissful feeling of his easy breathing but he’s so, so exhausted. He slumps into Victor’s arms, drifting softly off to sleep whilst still kneeling in front of the toilet. Victor kisses the top of his head and pulls both arms around the shattered boy and mutters a quiet “I’m so sorry.” into his hair.

  


-

  


Yuuri only coughs up a maximum of 7 petals the next day; no blood, and all separate. The day after that he coughs up 5. He doesn’t cough at all for the next two days, and he uses those two empty days to relax in bliss. He never thought he would be so happy to be able to breathe, but the last few months have been torture and his deep, unrestricted breathing feels like heaven.

 

It’s a week after the China cup when the last petal falls from his mouth. Hes sipping his tea, and when he pulls it back he sees a tiny petal floating in the liquid. He didn’t even cough or feel it, and he hasn’t been in pain for days. His family have noticed, and Mari asked if he got the operation to remove it. He shook his head at her question and her eyes grew wide, and then she smiled to wide it was as if her face would split in half.

 

Victor noticed, too. He’s been wary of Yuuri since he found out about his hanahaki, and even warier when he knew it was because of him. But he’s seen the major decrease in flowers since that night in the hotel, and has noticed Yuuri’s deep breathing and lack of coughing. He wants to say something about it but he doesn’t know how. He feels awful. He was the reason that Yuuri went through this. He caused months of pain - emotional and physical - and he feels that nothing he can say will make up for it.

  
  


It’s been two weeks since the last petal. There’s been no coughing the whole time, and his chest feels as good as new. The two are laid on Yuuri’s bed, Victor’s head resting on his chest as if he’s listening for flowers. Yuuri’s hand is softly carding through his soft, silver hair, and they lay in comfortable silence for what feels like forever. Victor wants to speak, so he says the first thing he can think of.

 

“Yuuri.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“....I love you.”

 

There’s a silence for a few seconds, Yuuri’s hand pausing in his hair. Victor feels Yuuri’s chest move as he takes in a deep breath. His hand then continues combing like before.

  
“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna make this have a sad ending but im bad with angst i just want my boys to be happy


End file.
